


Explosions

by didsw



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, new years fic, other chars obvsss, party at berts!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3074720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didsw/pseuds/didsw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean shows up to Bertholdt’s house in a russet sweater over a button-down his mother gifted him for Christmas and Sasha in tow.</p>
<p>“I’m sure Eren’s gonna love you in those church clothes,” is what Sasha had said when she got in the car, and God, why couldn’t he have carpooled with Marco? It’s totally not for Eren. He’s cleaned up because it’s a New Year’s Party, and it’s not so bad to dress classy once in a while, Jesus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Explosions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youcanbeking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcanbeking/gifts).



> new years fic for my main squeeze [ab](narutorun.tumblr.com) :) 
> 
> first time writing for snk!!

Jean shows up to Bertholdt’s house in a russet sweater over a button-down his mother gifted him for Christmas and Sasha in tow.

“I’m sure Eren’s gonna love you in those church clothes,” is what Sasha had said when she got in the car, and God, why couldn’t he have carpooled with Marco? It’s totally not for Eren. He’s cleaned up because it’s a _New Year’s Party_ , and it’s not so bad to dress classy once in a while, Jesus.

“Wow, Jean, you look...different,” Bertholdt says when he opens the door and ushers them inside. Sasha snickers into her palm and Jean hates the world.

“It’s a party, right? You have to dress up, right?” he snaps, and immediately feels like punching himself in the face. _What the hell are you doing, yelling at the guy who invited you to one of the only high school parties you’re probably ever going to attend?_ “Sorry, man,” because Bertholdt’s actually a really nice guy, and Jean’s not shallow enough to act remorseful only because he doesn’t want to get kicked out.

“It’s alright,” Bertholdt says, smiling a little, like this is normal behaviour for Jean. Which it kind of is, but that’s all in the past now. Hopefully. ‘New year, new you’, and all that jazz. “May I take your coats?”

Jean and Sasha refuse, and follow Bertholdt to the front closet to hang up their jackets themselves.

“You’re our friend, Bert, you don’t need to bend over backwards for us!” Sasha says, giving Bertholdt’s upper arm a gentle slap.

“Yeah, man, go enjoy your party and stuff,” Jean adds, grinning, and Bertholdt mirrors his expression.

“Hosting sucks,” he confesses, and Jean and Sasha laugh. “I swear, this is the last time--I only host this every year because Reiner says my house is the biggest, but he doesn’t understand the stress I go through…”

“What was that?” says a voice, and Bertholdt blushes a little when Reiner comes over. “Who’s the one picking up all the empty cans in the morning before your parents wake up while you curl up on the couch and sleep?”

“I don’t do that!” Bertholdt protests, and Jean walks away laughing as they descend into friendly bickering.

Marco’s sitting with Connie on a couch with a bowl of chips nestled between them.

“Connie! Marco!” exclaims Sasha, bounding over to them. Jean follows at a slower pace.

“Sash!” cries Connie, and throws a chip in the air. Sasha catches it in her mouth, and they slap hands. “Nice!”

“Sasha, I like your dress,” comments Marco, and Sasha twirls a bit. The soft white light from the Christmas lights strung up everywhere catch on the sequins, and her image is gently blurred.

“Thanks! It has pockets!”

Marco and Connie are still fawning over Sasha and the potential snack storage on her dress when Jean comes over and claps Marco on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, frowning a little when Sasha points to him suddenly.

“If you think I’m dressed up, wait ‘til you get a load of this guy!” she says, and Connie and Marco crane their necks around to give Jean a once-over. “That outfit is new! And guess what! He dabbed cologne behind his ears when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

“Shut up!” says Jean over Marco and Connie’s laughter.

“You look so dapper!” Connie gushes in mock affection.

“Jeanny-boy’s all grown up,” says Marco, and the three of them erupt into a new wave of laughter. Jean regrets introducing his lunatic friends to his mother.

“So I like to smell nice and look good, who the hell cares?”

“Is he here? Has he shown up yet?” Connie asks, but Marco shakes his head.

“I haven’t seen Eren or Mikasa yet. I think Armin mentioned they had a family party to attend, so they’ll be here later.”

“This isn’t for fucking Jeager!” Jean shouts, and thank god for the booming music, because this argument is _not_ something Jean wants to broadcast to their whole grade.

“It’s cute how you think we can’t see through your thin layer of denial,” says Marco.

“I’m not denying anything!”

“Dude, your face is literally so red right now, oh my God.”

“Screw you guys, I’m getting a drink,” he scowls, and walks over to the table.

“Get me a Sprite!” Connie yells behind him, and Jean flips him off.

He studies the various beverages with interest, one cup placed to the side (Connie’s drink, because Jean’s actually not as much of an asshole as everyone seems to think). There’s soda and water and juice, and a lot of alcohol. Everyone’s invited to stay over so theres no need to worry about drunk teenagers driving home at one in the morning.

Does he really want to start drinking this early in the night? Jean doesn’t mind getting a little tipsy, but he doesn’t want to be an incoherent mess by 10 pm. He’s not a fun drunk. He’s actually really emotional, and once he cried and spread snot over Marco’s new shirt, so. He doesn’t even have the bonus of being a pretty crier. The last thing he needs is for Eren to see him with his red eyes and dribbling nose. The infuriating thing is, Eren’s really fun and mellow when he’s drunk. _Fucking Eren. He’s probably a pretty crier, too._

The fact that he has an actual, honest-to-God, schoolgirl crush on Eren is...quite possibly the worst thing to have happened to Jean. Years spent fighting, dedicating time to petty arguments, hours wasted crafting pranks of revenge and plans to stir up trouble, and Jean walks away with with black eyes and bloody lips and butterflies in his stomach. His first mistake was falling, but his second was definitely sharing the information with Marco, foolishly thinking that his best friend would be able to keep his mouth shut. Of course, the first thing Marco did was tell Connie, who told Sasha, who came over to Jean’s through the pathway behind their houses and demanded to know everything.

Jean loves his friends, but honestly--like he has any idea which light he likes Eren’s eyes in the best, or what hairstyle he thinks suits him the most.

He’s pouring himself some orange soda when someone bumps into him and causes the Sunkist to slosh over the rim and onto the table.

“Watch it, idiot,” he says, and turns to meet--of course. Of fucking course Eren Jeager had to be the first person he would encounter when pouring his drink.

“Nice to see you too, asshole,” Eren glares, and whoops, he might have said that last part out loud.

Mikasa swoops in with napkins and Jean cleans up the drink.

“How was your family party?” Jean asks, because they’re still _there_ and he has to say _something._

“Good. It was very quiet, but nice.” Mikasa, at least, has the decency to answer him. Eren just glares even harder.

“What?” Jean asks when Eren’s concentrating expression doesn’t waver. Mikasa bids him goodbye and wanders off in search of friends. “What?” he asks again, because Eren’s eyes have lost that hard edge to them, and Jean feels a little like he’s being studied in a lab. He breaks eye contact and hastily pours himself another drink, but Eren’s still looking, and God, is his sweater riding up in the back? Why are his hands shaking, why is he so self conscious? He somehow manages to knock over Connie’s Sprite, and suddenly Eren is _there_ , mopping up the drink and blinding Jean with a smile.

“What the hell are you smiling at me like that for?” he demands, hoping to heaven that no one notices the high, faint blush on his cheeks.

“Nothing,” Eren says, still smiling oh-so-sweetly, “I was just thinking...since it’s New Years and all, it would be cool if you weren’t a huge ass tonight.”

“Wha--” Jean splutters, out of his element because _what_. “Me? You’re definitely the bigger ass!” Where are the piercing insults that used to dance off his tongue? Why is he left to resort to middle-school comebacks? “I mean--screw off, Eren. I’m a great person.”

Eren hums, grin widening, and Jean can feel the blood pumping into his face, can feel the blush deepening. “This is where you counter my point with cheap insults.” He feels like he has to remind Eren of _who they are_  and _what their relationship is._

__

“I was gonna say something about your shit personality and awful taste, but I’m trying to be a better person this new year,” Eren says, and is it just Jean, or does he look a little sly, glancing up at him through his hair? “And it’s not like you’re _not_ a great person some of the time, so basically I’ve just avoided another needless argument.”

He strolls away, calm as a clam, and Jean gapes after him for a few seconds before dashing over to the three on the couch.

“Where’s my Sprite?” Connie asks. Sasha shushes him and turns to Jean with stars in her eyes.

“I saw you talking with Eren!” she says, and clutches his arm. “What did you say? Did you confess? Have you kissed? You guys are so cute!” Maybe those aren’t stars in her eyes.

“Have you already started drinking?” Jean says, because honestly, who even comes to a conclusion like that?

“Answer, Jean!”

“Obviously not,” he says. They stare up at him.

“What happened?” Marco prods.

“Why do you automatically think something happened?”

“You’ve got that “Eren talked to me” look on your face,” says Marco helpfully, and Sasha and Connie nod their heads like the bobble figure Jean has sitting on his dashboard.

“I do not have an ‘Eren talked to me’ look!” Jean says, heating up.

“See! That’s the tone you use when you’re trying to be lowkey about your crush,” says Connie, pointing at his face. Jean bats his hand away.

_“There’s no tone!”_

“Jean,” says Marco, sighing like a weary father. “Just tell us what happened.”

“He…” Jean starts, and feels like a twelve year old girl. “He called me a great person, sometimes.”

He’s expecting some laughter, some sly remarks from his own personal peanut gallery, but to his surprise, the three in front of him are wearing serious expressions--something so rarely seen on Connie’s face, Jean almost has a double-take.

“What?” he mutters, pulling at his sleeves.

“Dude!” Sasha says, and Connie nods in agreement.

“He’s totally into you, man.”

Jean looks helplessly to Marco for some form of intelligent support, but Marco has his “thinking face” on.

“You can’t be serious,” says Jean, throwing up his hands in the air. “That doesn’t even count as--as _anything,_ he’s just being a tool--”

“No, Jean,” Marco says, and lays a hand on his forearm. “I think you should make a move tonight.”

“What!”

“It’s the perfect setup!” Sasha puts in before Marco can comment. “It’s a romantic night, the mood is right…”

“He flirts back with you,” says Marco, “and Sasha’s right about the mood. So you should kiss him at midnight.”

Jean feels like banging his head against the wall. “That wasn’t _flirting_ , Jesus--”

“That’s how Eren shows affection!” yells Connie. “C’mon man, what are you scared of?”

“What do you _think_ I’m scared of?” Jean demands. “You can’t just go up to a guy...out of nowhere--one of your _worst enemies_ \--”

“You’re not worst enemies,” says Marco.

“Well, it’s not like we’re friends or anything.” Jean flushes at the incredulous stares sent his way.

“You play video games together,” Sasha ticks off a finger.

“You’re both on the basketball team,” Connie adds.

“Sometimes I see you giving him a ride home,” is Marco’s input.

“That’s because he lives on the way to my house!” Jean says, but they’re not listening, and Connie and Marco are already off the couch and pushing him toward the living room.

“Go, go, go, Jean!” Sasha cheers, and throws a glittery boa around his neck. “Go find Eren and sweep him off his feet!”

**

It’s ten-thirty and Jean has successfully talked to Eren multiple times. They got into a fight over the last few pieces of bruschetta, and videotaped Hitch who was completely drunk off her ass (before Marlo dragged her away to let her lie down and rest), and then Eren drank from Jean’s cup accidentally and they had to stay in separate rooms for half an hour because of all the noise they produced arguing over it.

Now, Jean’s playing Strip Twister--proposed by Krista, but Jean knows it was just a ruse so that she could ogle and rub herself all over Ymir’s body. Strip Twister isn’t even a real game, but Krista’s always been a little sly. Armin’s got his calf in Jean’s face, trying to balance on his right hand and left foot, and the game’s just started so the most the four of them are missing are socks, shoes, and cardigans or sweaters.

“Arm, dude, seriously, do you ever wash your feet?” Jean grumbles, and Ymir barks out a laugh. Armin’s calf twitches.

“I do, it’s just the shoes I wore tonight make my feet really hot,” he says, embarrassed. “And quit calling me “Arm”.”

Jean huffs a sigh and tries to turn his nose away. He almost topples over, because he’s balancing with his stomach facing the ceiling, but catches himself, and then wonders why the hell he even cares if he’s out or not.

“What’s this?” says a voice, and Jean flops his head backwards to see an upside-down Eren Jeager.

“Come join!” says Krista, smiling up at him from under Ymir. Jean scowls because that position isn’t necessary _at all_ , considering what Krista’s spun so far. “It’s Strip Twister!”

“Wait--isn’t Twister just a four-person game?” Jean cuts in, before Eren can make himself comfortable.

“Lighten up, Jean, you pussy,” says Ymir, which seems like an entirely unnecessary comment to Jean, but that’s Ymir for you. Eren fixes Jean with a look he can’t read, and then decides that yes, Strip Twister is definitely the way he wants to spend his last day of the year.

Within five minutes of Eren joining, his body is raised above Jean’s and his chest is level with Jean’s face.

“Move the hell away from me,” says Jean, because it seems hot in theory but it’s actually very awkward and cramped in practice. “You don’t even need to be this close, move over or something, why are you crowding over me? Seriously, move!”

“And fall and risk stripping? You’re such a perv,” says Eren, smirking down at him. It’s a smug look Jean’s seen countless times, in the few seconds before his fist connects with Eren’s face, but lately...Jean feels a spike of fear and hopes Eren doesn’t know that he finds the expression hot and is using the information to his advantage. How humiliating, to be played by freaking Jeager, because even if Jean’s whack hormones have turned Eren into some angry Adonis, he’s still a tool.

A couple minutes later Eren actually does slip off the mat, and Krista laughs excitedly and orders him to take off some clothing. To everyone’s surprise and Jean’s horror, he unbuttons his pinstripe Oxford and _motherfucker, he’s got no undershirt._

“What are you doing,” Jean hisses up at him once Eren’s settled himself back into his position. “Why the fuck did you take your shirt, you’re supposed to go for--for socks, or something--”

“I’m hot,” says Eren, and Jean shuts up fast before he can make a foolish comment. “It’s like, a hundred degrees in here,” and Jean looks closer and sees that his soft chest muscles are in fact glistening.

They continue playing, and Eren moves over Jean and all he can focus on is the way his core shifts, muscles sliding over each other, so close and intimate, and can’t handle it. Not today, when he’s nervous and sweating and a little buzzed.

Jean tumbles out and off the mat in one slick move, smoothing down his sweater as he stands. Armin and Krista look up in confusion, and Jean laughs weakly.

“Sorry,” he says, smoothing down his hair. “I’m just. I’m really hungry, I think I’m gonna track down Marco and get something to eat.” Armin nods and Ymir says she thinks she saw Marco in one of the back rooms. Jean sneaks a look at Eren and--

_Huh?_

Eren looks a bit...disappointed that Jean’s leaving. He’s frowning at the floor and his mouth is tilted down and Jean can’t take his eyes away. Eren catches his gaze and wipes his face of the expression.

**

“Any progress?” Marco greets when Jean settles beside him, a plate full of crackers and cheese balanced in his hand.

“What do you think?” Jean asks, and sighs. “This is so stupid. All we’ve done--all we ever do--is fight. Why the fuck do I--should I--”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” says Marco. “You don’t have to tell him anything. No one’s forcing you,” but the thing is, Jean wants this. He wants to tell Eren how he feels, because it’s eating away at him constantly, that even being in Eren’s presence is starting to throw him off. He can’t have a repeat of Strip Twister, running away almost hard at the sight of Eren’s chest--a chest he’s seen multiple times before, on countless occasions, he should have better control of himself, this whole shitty situation is so goddamn embarrassing.

“I know that, it’s just. It’s so hard. Like, what do I even say? “Hey, shitstain, let me kiss you,”?” Marco laughs. “I mean, what’s even the point, really? It’s just gonna screw things up between us, and I’m gonna end up looking like a huge, rejected loser.”

“Don’t be scared, Jean. Eren’s not the kind of guy to take something like this in the wrong light. He’s gonna respect you, no matter what, and who knows? It could turn out for the better! You never know until you try.” Marco sounds like he’s imparting some heavenly wisdom or something, smiling sagely like he knows something Jean doesn’t. He moves off the couch. “Come on, lets go challenge Reiner at the foosball table--there’s some tournament, he’s been at the table for like, forty-five minutes already.”

**

Marco’s left him in favor of poker with a ragtag group someone’s put together, and Jean’s leaning heavily against the wall, alone.

“How bored are you right now?” says a voice, and Jean turns to see Eren at his side. “On a scale of one to ten.”  
  


Jean glances back to where Reiner and Annie are locked in some weirdly intense foosball match.. People are surrounding them, cheering and jeering, and the whole situation is just uncomfortably surreal. Jean chalks it up to the beer and accepts the night’s events.

“About a seven,” he answers honestly, because there is always a little enjoyment when Annie and Reiner compete. Bertholdt, however, just looks tired, gazing on with the expression of a weary parent.

“I’m a nine,” says Eren. “Why am I watching this, I don’t even know.” Jean laughs.

“It’s not so bad,” he says. “Look, I’ve never seen that vein popping on Reiner’s head before,” and he’s pleased when Eren shoots him a sharp grin. They stand in companionable silence for a few moments.

“So I got _Apokalypse II_ for Christmas,” says Eren, and beams when Jean turns to him, mouth dropping open.

“That game doesn’t come out for like, another two months!”

“My mom pre-ordered it or something, my parents have all sorts of weird connections.”

Jean is jealous--he loved _Apokalyps_ e, he’s been waiting for the second game since last summer. “Lucky bastard.”

“You can come over and play sometime, if you want to,” Eren offers, fixing him with a smile. Jean looks for a trembling lip or muffled snort, or perhaps a sneaky look in his eye, but Eren seems genuine.

“You’d let me?”

“Sure, of course,” says Eren. “You’re like, the only person who would want to. Armin likes strategy games more and Mikasa’s like some weird goddess of everything, I don’t want to ask her. So, yeah. You can come over and play, if you want to, I mean.” He grins a little sheepishly.

“Dude, _yes._ Totally. Are you kidding? I’ll come over anytime and play Apokalypse II with you!” Jean can’t believe Eren thought he would refuse an offer like this. “Thanks for the offer!”

“Yeah, well,” says Eren, bumping Jean’s shoulder with his own. Jean smiles at him without thinking, and Eren smiles back--it’s a little disorienting, and Jean has to look away.

They talk for a few more moments, and then Armin’s waving Eren over from another room. Eren looks to Jean, shrugging a little helplessly, and what can Jean do but nod his head and watch him go? He’s not about to--to _call after_ Eren or something, this isn’t a Nicholas Sparks movie, what is he, some tween girl?

**

“Twenty minutes until the new year!” cries Bertholdt, and everyone cheers. Some kids start to make their way to Bertholdt’s back deck, where the view of the town fireworks is best.

Sasha and Connie appear on either side of Jean out of nowhere, like little shoulder deities, except in this case, it’s two incompetent devils instead of one and an angel.

“Have you kissed yet?”

“No, when the fuck would I have done that, do you really think I’d be standing here watching Reiner and Annie ruin their friendship over table soccer if I had?”

Connie holds up his hands in surrender. “Jeez, we’re just asking.”

“As concerned friends,” Sasha adds, and shakes her head at Jean, like he’s the idiot. “Seriously, Jean, make a move! It’s almost twelve!”

She’s flailing around a lot, which happens when she’s tipsy; Jean himself knows he’s being too loud when he talks, and decided earlier that he’s had enough--if he does manage to confess to Eren, he doesn’t want to be drunk, which would make it look insincere and also end horribly, with him probably crying into Eren’s hair and then throwing up. The first cry always makes him a little nauseous. The small amount of fire in him might be enough to get him to work up the courage, though.

“I have made a move!” he cries. “I got him a sandwich when he dropped his once, and then later I complimented his shirt.”

“Lame,” Connie says, crossing his arms. “You’re fucking weak, dude.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Let’s go outside!” says Sasha. “Look, Marco’s there already with Mikasa and Armin!” She grabs Jean and Connie’s hands and drags them out of room and on to the outside deck.

“It’s freezing,” Jean says, and eyes Armin’s scarf jealously.

“Yeah, but those fireworks are gonna look so cool over the lake,” says Marco.

“It’s always beautiful.” Mikasa gazes over the rail, lips lifting. “It’s my favorite way to start the year.”

“Where’s Eren? He always loves the fireworks, too,” says Armin, twisting around. To Jean’s surprise, him and Mikasa look to him. “Have you seen him?”

“Uh, no?” tries Jean. “I mean, last I saw him he was talking with Thomas about something...but that was a while ago, I dunno where he is now.”

“He’ll come out,” says Mikasa. “Let’s just try and stay warm and enjoy the sight.”

“Want some? It’ll warm you up real quick,” says Sasha, holding up a mini bottle of whiskey.

“Where did you even _get_ that?” asks Marco, as Mikasa takes a swig. Jean snorts in amusement when Connie produces a few more from his coat pockets. “What the hell, you guys?” but he’s grinning, too.

“Aw, shit,” says Jean, “I forgot my coat inside.”

“You’re just realizing that?” asks Connie, and Armin offers to run in and get it.

“No, it’s fine, thanks dude,” says Jean, and shucks his hands in his pockets. “I’ll live.”

They’re all leaning on the railing, talking, and then Armin and Connie wander away to some boys in their gaming club and Mikasa is called over by Annie, so it’s just Sasha and Marco and himself.

Marco turns to say something to him when his gaze drifts and a small smile appears on his face. Jean’s already turning his head when Marco says, “Hey, Eren.”

Eren grins and comes over to them, his coat unzipped and his shirt collar all ruffled. Jean takes it in and his heart thuds in the lamest way possible because _holy shit, Eren looks adorable right now?_

__

“Hey guys,” he greets. “Ten more minutes until the New Year.”

Sasha lets out a loud whoop, which sets off the kids around her as well. Soon, the deck is filled with shouts and hollers.

“Oh, here Jean,” says Eren. “You left your jacket inside, and it’s really cold...so I brought it for you…” and to Jean’s private delight, Eren actually looks a bit pinker than usual. Not the angry blush that flushes his face when they’re fighting, but a small dusting that’s almost imperceptible.

“Thanks,” Jean mutters, and holds Eren’s gaze for a tad longer than he’s supposed to. Marco says something about food and of course Sasha instantly asks to go with him, and _wow, that’s really subtle, thanks._

Eren comes over and leans his forearms on the railing right next to Jean, who’s propped up on his elbows and facing the house.

“How’s it going?” Eren asks, and Jesus, are they seriously making small talk?  
  


“Pretty good,” says Jean. “Had a few, played some fun games, the usual.”

“It’s an alright night for me,” says Eren, looking at him. “Nothing much happened.” Jean coughs and looks away--suddenly, the situation is too serious, too stuffy. He’s about to change the subject, but then--

“I like your cardigan.”

Jean almost falls out of his pose in shock. Eren likes his sweater? The sweater he went out and purchased specifically for New Year’s, a sweater that--despite his protests--he definitely bought to impress Eren?

“It’s a sweater, actually,” he says, because at the end of the day, he’s still a bit of an ass.

“My mistake,” says Eren, but without the usual defiance and heat. “Whatever it is, it looks good.”

“Thank you?” says Jean. “Um. Did I miss something? Why are you being so...so…”

“So what?” says Eren, and oh, he’s definitely enjoying this.

“You’re not...every time we’ve argued tonight, I’ve instigated it,” Jean begins. “Which is...I don’t know, usually you’re more easy to rile up, why are you so calm tonight?”

“I dunno,” Eren says, but his lips tilt sideways. “Maybe its some new year magic.”

“That’s not a thing,” Jean snaps, but Eren only hums in reply.

They’re quiet for a bit, but Eren breaks it.

“Why do we always fight, anyways?”

Jean is taken aback. “Hell if I know. That’s just who we are, I guess.” Eren turns and looks right at him, right through him.

“Don’t you get tired of it? I don’t like being angry at you all the time, it’s boring.”

Jean feels like his heart is going to jump out of his ribcage. “I mean, I, uh…”

“Five minutes!” cries someone, and Eren lights up and spins Jean around to face the water, in preparation for the fireworks.

“What’s with all the introspective questions?” asks Jean, staring into the dark, too chicken to face Eren and ask normally.

“I just want a change,” answers Eren, and smiles. Jean can feel his face heating up, the way Eren’s looking at him through his fringe.

“Shut up, man,” he says, nervous as hell. He hopes Eren can’t see him sweatdropping.

“Jean,” and he turns his head. Jean holds his breath.

“I know you like me.”

There’s a few seconds in which everything seems to freeze, and then tighten up, and before Jean know’s what he’s doing his fist has embedded itself into Eren’s cheek. Eren doubles over, clutching his face, and Jean panics.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, shit, _fuck_ , what the _fuck_ \--”

“What the hell are you doing? Motherfucker!” Eren glares up at him as he straightens up, poking his cheek gingerly. “What the actual shit, Jean?”

“You--what? What? You can’t just say shit like that, how was I supposed to react?” Jean waves his arms around, flustered and angry aren’t a good combination for him. Eren sighs and scowls at him.

“Jean, you are literally such a dumbass,” he grumbles. Jean blushes and hugs his jacket tighter around him, and Eren’s eyes soften. “Look, dude, it’s no big deal. I mean, you do like me, right?”

Jean sucks in a breath. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? And Eren doesn’t seem angry or anything, so. “Yeah,” he sighs, ears burning. “Yeah, I do. Sorry.”

“Sorry?” questions Eren, gazing up at him quizzically. “What are you sorry for?”

“I dunno, dude,” says Jean, concentrating on a spot on the lake. “I mean--isn’t it awkward for you, or something? I’m always up in your space and stuff, it doesn’t...like, throw you off, or make you uncomfortable?”

“What kind of a person do you take me for?” asks Eren, frowning. “I’m not an asshole. You think I care if you like me or not? You’re still Jean. I’m still Eren.”

Jean nods but can’t _quite_ bring himself to reply, because okay yeah he was prepared for rejection, but damn. It still hurt.

“Besides,” continues Eren, and he’s leaning into Jean’s space, his lips formed in a half-smile. “It’s not like I don’t like you back.”

Jean whirls to face him, shocked. “What?” he manages to gasp out.

****

“One minute!”

****

Eren laughs. “Come on, man, you didn’t pick up on it? Armin said I was really obvious.”

****

“What? No? I was the obvious one! When did this happen? How long have you--did you--”

****

“I mean, I like you, and I knew you liked me--because, yeah sorry you are kind of obvious, sometimes--” Jean curses, “but I thought you knew that? I was waiting for you to make a move, but it took _so long_ , and then Mikasa said if nothing happened by today I should confess.” Eren taps his fist against Jean’s cheek lightly. “So I did. In a...roundabout way. But we’re on the same page now, right?”

****

“I...guess so?” This is all moving too fast for Jean. “I mean--yeah. I think?” He laughs weakly. Eren beams at him, half of his face illuminated from the lights inside, and Jean swallows nervously.

****

“Ten!” The countdown begins.

****

“Eren,” Jean begins.

****

“Nine!”

****

His mouth is cotton.

****

“Eight!”

****

“I--”

****

“Seven!”

****

Eren kisses him.

****

“Six! Five! Four! Three!”

****

He releases Jean with a soft ‘pop’.

****

“Two!”

****

Eren takes both of his hands and smiles.

****

“One! Happy New Year!”

****

Fireworks explode in the sky. People are cheering, screaming, and Jean’s oblivious to it all.

****

“Idiot,” he hisses, trying to mask the burning on his face, this isn’t how he envisioned the night going at _all._ “You’re supposed to kiss _after_ the countdown, not _during_ it!”

****

“Couldn’t wait,” Eren winks, tightening his hold on Jean for just a moment, and Jean gapes for a second and then laughs and squeezes back.

****

He shyly puts his arm around Eren, because he wants to touch him now that he can, and also partially so Eren turns in a way that hides the blossoming bruise on his face. Eren leans into him, a hand snaking around his waist, and they watch the fireworks in warm silence.

****

Eren looks up at him. “Happy New Year, Jean,” he says, glowing.

****

Jean looks down at him and feels stupidly happy. He thinks back to Sasha’s question and decides that this is how he likes Eren’s eyes the most--all sharp and glassy, glittering in the dark, reflecting the explosions in the sky. He warms at the thought, embracing the fact that at the end of the day, he’s a sentimental bastard.

****

“Happy New Year, Eren.”

  
They lean in again as fireworks pepper the sky, their patterns mimicking the explosions in Jean’s hear ** **t.****

**Author's Note:**

> and there it is. first fic of the new year..
> 
> hope it was enjoyable!! tell me how i did! [didsw](didsw.tumblr.com) on tumblr :)


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